


Prison

by sierraraeck



Series: Aundreya Chambers [13]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner - Freeform, Angst, Aundreya Chambers, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Criminal Minds Family, David Rossi - Freeform, Derek Morgan - Freeform, Emily Prentiss - Freeform, FBI, Gen, Original Female Character - Freeform, POV Original Female Character, Penelope Garcia - Freeform, Prison Arc Reimagined, Slow Burn, Spencer Reid - Freeform, Spencer Reid Angst, The BAU Team as Family (Criminal Minds), bau, jennifer jareau - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraraeck/pseuds/sierraraeck
Summary: Series Summary: This is a series following Aundreya Chambers and her experience with the BAU, Spencer, and trying to navigate the FBI as a high-profile criminal. And things get very messy.Chapter Summary: Prison arc reimagined. Aundreya goes to visit Spencer and gives him some advice on how to survive in there. Story thirteen.
Relationships: The BAU Team/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Aundreya Chambers [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130924





	Prison

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder that this is all fiction and I don’t actually know anything about prisons.

_What the fuck?!_

“He’s not here. What’s wrong?” Hotch took the lead.

“Do you know where he would be?” the officer bulldozed over the question.

“What is going on?” Hotch insisted before answering. We all relatively knew where he was, but we didn’t have a specific place. 

“Doctor Reid is under arrest,” she answered.

_What the actual fuck?!_

“For what?” Morgan blurted.

“For drug possession and homicide.”

My jaw practically broke from the impact of hitting the floor. It didn’t even make sense. Spencer? Drugs? _Murder?_ I mean, yes drugs, if we were talking like months ago but not now.

“That’s impossible, something’s wrong,” I said shaking my head.

“Yeah, what’s wrong is a man is dead and it looks like your co-worker killed him,” the woman said. “So you need to tell me where he is. Right _now_.”

“We don’t know,” Aaron stated.

“I think you do. You are all close with him, are you not? Where is he?” she demanded.

“We don’t know!” JJ exclaimed. 

“Who are you anyway?” Rossi asked. 

“I’m Detective Deborah Madalina from the MPDC. We need to track his device. Is your tech analyst still here?” Deborah asked.

“Yes. I’m here,” Penelope squeaked.

“You’re Garcia right? Would you track his phone for me?” 

“Uh. Uh -,” she looked around at us, not seeming to know how to properly answer, “Yeah. Sure. Follow me,” Garcia said. 

_I have to warn him somehow. I have to get him to fall off the radar, just until we can figure out what is going on._

“Hey Garcia! _Slow down_ in those heels. You are going to hurt yourself,” I said. She looked at me and I gave her wide eyes, willing her to read my mind 

She nodded frantically, tears already welling in her eyes, replying with, “You’re right, but they’re just too cute not to wear.”

I nodded back at her and waited a few seconds before following them out. 

“Where are you going?” one of the officers asked me.

“To the bathroom,” I stated simply.

“Really?”

“Would you like to come with me?” I shot my eyebrows up, and decided to add, “Would you also be able to spot me a tampon?”

“Uh, no. It’s okay. Go ahead,” he nervously laughed, moving out of my way.

“Thanks,” I said, pushing past him. 

I rushed to the bathroom as fast as I could without drawing attention to myself. Once I closed the door, my fingers flew across my phone’s keyboard, urgently needing to warn Reid. 

> The police are after you so you need to shut off your phone and GPS. Use my spare key and if someone comes looking go up into the attic. Someone’ll contact you when we know more. Trust us.

I sent the text and waited for it to tell me it was delivered. I couldn’t wait for a response, all I could do was hope he’d get it in time. 

I turned my phone onto Airplane mode and because it hadn’t been more than a few minutes, the text, hopefully, wouldn’t have been able to save to the cloud, meaning there would be no record of my text. But just in case, I dropped it into the toilet. 

There was a small spark and just a satisfying bit of sizzling. When I thought there was no chance of me getting electrocuted, I reached in and pulled my phone out. I tried to turn it on but all it showed was a dark screen with just a few streaks of color through it. 

_Perfect._

I wiped it off with a paper towel, put my phone in my back pocket, and waltzed back into the bullpen. 

The rest of the team members gave me a look, clearly able to pick up on my satisfied micro expression. All I offered was a small curve of my lips. 

Just a moment or two later, Deputy Madalina sauntered into the bullpen. “We can’t find him.”

I could tell that everyone was refraining from stealing a glance at me. I stayed as still as stone.

“Would any of you happen to know why that would be?”

It was Penelope who spoke, “He’s not very handy with technology. He always asks for our files on paper not on our tablets. Maybe he let it die or just turned it off or something.”

“I really doubt that,” Deborah decided. “You know why? Because I could find everyone’s phone GPS on the map, except for yours.” She turned and walked right up to me, eyes piercing. I refused to say anything until she offered up something in return.

“So why can’t we track you?”

I pulled out my phone and offered it to her. She surveyed the damage and I explained, “It was stupid, really. I forgot my phone was in my back pocket, and when I went to the bathroom, it fell in the toilet.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“When was this?” she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Right when we got off the jet. I raced in here to pee.”

“Why didn’t you go in the jet?”

“I have a weird thing with heights. How is this relevant to Doctor Reid?” I probed, slightly annoyed.

“They’re just questions,” she said. I stood there staring her down. There was nothing else I could say and I figured now would be a good time to let someone else take over.

“What is your evidence?” Hotch inquired.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that. Thank you for your cooperation,” she shot me a look, “I’m sorry we barged in on your work like that. Have a good rest of your night.”

She turned to leave and waved all of her police possy with her.

Once they left, Hotch didn’t say another word. All he did was head toward the briefing room and gesture for all of us to come with him. Rossi disappeared into his office and met us outside the door with a small box. He opened it and held up his phone for all of us to see, then placed it into the box. The rest of us followed suit. He walked the box back into his office and then returned, shutting the briefing room door behind us.

Immediately everyone turned to look at me.

“Yes. My phone fell in the toilet,” I offered with a sarcastic undertone, making them aware of my lie, if they weren’t already.

“What specifically did you tell him?” Aaron asked sternly.

“I told him to trust us and shut his phone down.”

“Does he know the police are after him?”

“That’s all he knows. I didn’t have time to tell him why,” I explained.

“What were you thinking?” Morgan raised his voice at me, “This makes him look guilty!”

“No, this prevents him from going to jail,” I countered.

“They are going to think he’s evading the police!”

“Look, I know how this works. They have the evidence against him they need and they blasted in here, guns-a-blazing, so they could arrest him right here, right now. At least he has a chance for us to clear his name before they take him to prison.”

“Going to prison for a few days would be better than having another charge added to the list!” Derek continued.

“Trust me,” I said in a calm voice, “I’ve been on the inside. Reid does not belong there and I’m not sure how long he’d survive there, especially if someone caught wind he’s a Fed. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with me, but I did what I thought would give him the best option in that moment.”

“What’s done is done,” Rossi intervened. “We need to start thinking next steps.”

“First we have to get invited in by the local police,” Hotch said.

“I’m on it,” JJ said, rushing out the door.

“Garcia, is there any information you can pull up on this?” Hotch asked.

“Yes, sir, I can certainly try. When I know something, you will know something,” she said, following in JJ’s footsteps. 

“The rest of us need to figure out where Reid is, where he would go, and as much about these drugs and the deceased man as possible,” Hotch stated. “Aundreya, was there anything else in that text you sent that could help us?”

“No, I doubt it,” I replied.

“Are you sure? You don’t know where he is or where he’s headed?”

“No,” I lied. Well, it was sort of true. I _didn’t_ know where he was at that exact moment, and I couldn’t be _sure_ where he was headed. I was hoping he was at my apartment by now, but I didn’t want the rest of the team to be held accountable. If they knew where he was and didn’t turn over that information, it could get all of them in trouble, I was sure of it. Plus, he would be at _my_ apartment, meaning I’d be the one responsible. If worse came to worse, I wanted to be the _only_ one to take the fall for that. 

* * *

We worked tirelessly for the next 4 hours, collecting evidence putting pieces together, trying to make some sort of sense out of the matter. There was no way in hell Spencer did this, so we had to come up with something and fast. 

We weren’t fast enough, because Hotch came racing into the room.

“They found him,” he said, barely even slowing his pace. No one had time to ask questions before he continued with, “Get your stuff, we’re going to meet him at the precinct.”

He turned right back around and walked out the way he came, the rest of us playing ‘follow-the-leader.’ 

When we got to the precinct, I immediately spotted Reid in a jail cell.

I rushed over to him and started bombarding him with questions. “What the hell! How did they find you?”

I made sure to keep my voice down and he returned the favor. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble for this. I don’t know what is going on, but you don’t need to put yourself in the line of fire.”

“So, what? You just went home?”

“Chambers!” Aaron called out. 

“I’ll be back,” I assured before scurrying back to the team. 

I took one look at their faces and knew everything was about to get worse. “What is it?”

“They want to move him to a correctional facility,” Hotch answered.

“What?” I asked way too loudly.

“They’re saying that because of all the evidence they have gathered against him, and their claim that he’s a flight risk, that he qualifies to be moved to a prison,” Rossi filled me in. 

“They can’t do that-”

“They can and they are,” Hotch interrupted.

“No you don’t understand. They _can’t_ do that. He will not survive in there.”

“So the rest of us need to get working on this and fast,” Rossi said, making eye-contact with everyone else in the group except me. 

“The rest of us? What does that mean?”

“You will be helping us later, but for now, the police have some questions to ask you.”

“About what?” I was exacerbated and confused and sick of everything going wrong. 

“They found him in the parking lot outside of _your_ apartment, and on top of that, your conveniently broken phone? They just want some answers,” Derek chimed in. _We all do._

I let out a huge breath. “Okay. Fine. Am I just supposed to wait here or what?”

As if on cue, that Deborah character walked in and bee-lined it right at me. “Come with me,” she commanded, grabbing me by that arm.

I forcefully shook her off. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”

Emily gave me a warning look, telling me to calm down and behave myself, before I turned out of sight into an interrogation room. The last thing we needed was me flying off the rails, causing more problems than necessary. I took a deep breath as I calmed my mind, keeping my eyes shut just a bit longer on the next blink to try and clear my head. 

I sat there and deadpanned at Sheriff Madalina as she stood, fingertips on the table in a traditional power-pose. 

“What do you know?”

“I know a lot of things. You will have to be more specific,” I quipped. 

“Okay, if you wanna play that game. Let’s start with your boyfriend Doctor Reid and what he’s been through lately,” she started. I wanted to cut her off at the term ‘boyfriend’ but getting defensive wouldn’t help my case. “Do you have any idea why he would have so many drugs at his place?”

I clarified, “First off, he’s not my boyfriend. Just a close friend. Secondly, he wouldn’t have those drugs at his place. They were planted there,” I was proud at how calmly I was able to say that. 

“That’s interesting, because they seem to have his DNA _all over_ them,” she countered.

“Yes, because if someone planted them in _his_ apartment, surrounded by _his_ other things, it’s not hard to figure that some DNA would get on the packages. But it also wouldn’t be hard for this person to also just rub the packaging up against his bed, or jacket, or _couch_ for Christ's sake, and end up with the same result. They’re not his,” I said confidently. 

“There were no signs of forced entry.”

“Lock pick.”

“How would someone get all those drugs up there unnoticed if they were planting them?”

“How would Doctor Reid get all those drugs up there unnoticed if they were actually his?” I rebutted. She had to hesitate and I knew I was challenging her. 

“Why wouldn’t the front desk people question someone new walking into the complex?” she shifted gears slightly.

“People have visitors all the time. It is not their job to harass every new person walking in.”

She smiled and I knew she was out of points to make. The problem with that, is that she would start grasping at weak arguments, which is exactly what she did. “Did anyone question you when you went over there?”

“No.”

“Is that because you visited him often?” she asked. I didn’t like where this was going, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. 

I tried answering the first part of her question. “No, because like I said, they don’t really question visitors.”

“But you _do_ visit him often, right?”

“I did for a while,” I answered.

“Why did you stop?”

“That’s not relevant,” I said, and it was none of her damn business. 

“Is it because _you_ were planting the drugs there, then wanted to disassociate yourself by the time they were found? I mean, you _do_ have a history with cocaine and heroin…” Deborah trailed off. _How does she know that?_

“Are those the drugs you found at his place?” I asked. They hadn’t told us anything specific.

“Yes. Are they yours?”

“No.”

“But you are so _convinced_ this was someone else, and you seem to have connections to all of the evidence. Drugs _you_ used to take, his place _you_ used to spend a lot of time at, plus _you_ have an explanation for everything, like a lock pick and not being questioned when walking into the complex. Not to mention your conveniently broken phone,” she said, trying to sound cocky. It almost sounded like she was giving me the opportunity to exonerate him and take his place. 

“Your grasping, Sheriff Madalina. None of those things are true,” I remarked.

“So you _didn’t_ have a drug problem and you _didn’t_ visit your colleague?” she asked.

It was a trap question, we used them all the time. The suspect says yes to this, you tell them they’re saying yes to everything. 

I restated my answer, picking my words very carefully, “I did have a drug problem but I have been clean for over a month, and I did visit my colleague but I haven’t done that in a few weeks.” 

“But it seemed like he was on his way to visit _you_ ,” she said. “Why was he parked outside of your apartment?”

That one, I didn’t have a good answer for. “I’m not entirely sure. He could have been there because we used to be really close and maybe he wanted to make amends,” I said. It was close enough to a plausible truth for this situation.

“What hurt your relationship?”

“Before I answer, I’d love to know why you are interrogating me about our friendship instead of worrying about finding the person who really killed that man,” I let out an annoyed breath. 

“Oh, I think we’ve found the person who _really_ killed that man, and if I’m right, I’ve found their partner too,” she said, raising her eyebrows at me. _The only question was, which one of us did she think was the partner, and which one of us did she think was the killer?_ “So what hurt your relationship?”

“We just had a falling out.”

“Over..?”

I knew she’d try to throw the jealous lover idea on me if I was honest, giving me motive to set him up, but I wasn’t going to let her get that far. “We had a shared trauma and handled it differently. We needed space.”

“Are you sure, that seems unlikely,” she inquired.

“It’s very likely. We are FBI agents and come across trauma on the daily. It’s definitely not unlikely for us to go through something, handle it differently, and need space. It happens to married couples all the time. They lose a child, grieve differently, and end up divorced,” I pointed out. 

To that, all she could come up with was, “That example is nothing like the situation the two of you are in.”

“Similar enough,” I said. I waited for her to continue pressing me, but when she didn’t, I asked, “If you don’t have any more questions for me, would you mind letting me get back to my team?”

“Sure, but I do have just one more question for you.”

“Which is?” I offered.

“Are you willing to let him take the fall for what you’ve done?”

I let out a snarky laugh as I stood, happy that I could look down at her. “We’re done here.” I strutted toward the door and exited without looking back at her. 

I approached the team and they all had an expectant look on their faces. 

“What happened?” Derek asked.

“Oh, nothing much. She thinks I’m his partner in crime or better yet I conducted the whole thing myself and am now pinning them on him, but you know. Just the usual bullshit,” I gave a strained closed-lip smile. 

His eyes went wide, but then he just shook his head and looked back at what he was doing.

“What’d I miss?”

“Let’s just recap for all of our sakes,” Prentiss said. “So the man who was killed is named Corbyn Young.”

“Corbyn Young?” I questioned before I could stop myself. This was news to me and I received weird looks for it. Time seemed to slow as I pinched the bridge of my nose and leaned my head back. _This cannot be happening._

“Yeah, why? Did you know him?” JJ asked, easily picking up on my recognition. 

“Yeah. He was one of the best new talents in the gang, and quickly became one of my trusted allies in the ring,” I said. _He was even my third in command. Why would someone want to kill Corbyn?_

“What? Really?” JJ asked.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. I spoke mostly to myself when saying, “That doesn’t make any sense…”

Prentiss continued, “He lived in an apartment down the hall from Reid’s. According to a nextdoor neighbor, she heard the two of them arguing before he was found dead 36 hours later.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I repeated. “How can they be sure it was Reid?”

“They can’t be positive, but it doesn’t look good. They have the neighbor saying that she looked out the peephole when she heard the door open and saw someone that matched Reid’s description coming from the room,” Rossi answered.

“Okay, and did he have any blood on him? A murder weapon?”

“No. She said he walked by too quickly to tell.”

“The only other things we know are that Corbyn was stabbed multiple times, so overkill, and that the unsub had plenty of time to kill him, then sneak the murder weapon and drugs into Reid’s apartment while we were gone,” Emily concluded.

“Okay, what I don’t understand is why they left the drugs,” I commented.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Derek agreed. “I mean, if their goal is to set him up and send him to prison, the murder charge alone is going to accomplish that. Why _also_ leave all the drugs behind?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it could be a stab at ... at, uh …” JJ trailed off. It was still an uncomfortable topic.

“I mean sure but that’s not what he was on,” Derek said in a hushed voice. They must’ve heard which drugs were in his apartment while I was being interrogated. 

“Yeah but it is what I was on,” I threw out. The attention turned to me. I was unclear as to why they seemed to know what Spencer was on but not what I was on. “What?”

“Not Dilaudid?” JJ asked.

“Not for me, no. How did you know that was his, um, ‘preference’ anyway?” I was curious.

“I found some on him,” Derek explained. _That would make sense. He didn’t have nearly as much practice as I did hiding addictions._

“Wait, so which one were you on?” Emily asked me.

My voice was so hushed I was worried they didn’t hear me when I responded with, “Both.”

“You were on-” Emily started loudly, then quickly dropped her voice to finish, “You were on _both_ cocaine and heroin?” I just nodded. Shock spread throughout the group. But, honestly, what did they expect?

“Maybe this _does_ have something to do with you,” Rossi finally joined. He’d been quietly thinking this through the whole time, as per usual with him. 

“What do you mean?” I quickly inquired.

“I just mean that you and him are pretty close, or you used to be, and whoever this person is, they killed someone _you_ had a connection to in your gang and ring, _and_ they left both of the drugs that _you_ were addicted to,” Rossi analyzed. 

“Okay, but what about the fact that Corbyn lived down the hall from Reid? How do we explain that?” I asked. 

“I’m not sure yet. It seems too perfect to be a coincidence, and why would Reid be talking to him anyway?” Rossi wondered. 

“We aren’t sure it _was_ Reid who was talking to him,” I reminded. 

“The witness gave a pretty exact description,” Hotch told me. 

I sighed. My head already hurt. “Okay, is there anything else we need to recap?” 

“The only other thing is the placement of the objects at the crime scene. The drugs were wrapped in a bathroom towel right under the blinds in his bedroom, and the knife was in a corner of the room under the tv behind a stack of books,” Prentiss said.

My head started to spin and the ground felt uneven. My vision blurred and my hearing faded out. I was going to collapse. And vomit. At the exact same time. 

I rushed toward the bathroom, covering my mouth and holding my stomach. 

It was the vomit that came first. 

Emily was right behind me, and gave me the courtesy of holding my hair back.

When I was done hacking up a lung, or more like an intestine, I sat back and started to let the light headedness fade. 

“Aundreya? Aundreya, are you okay?” Emily asked. 

_No. Not even close. I’ve been running for so long and I can’t escape, and now they sent him to watch me, to watch_ **_us_** , _long enough to know what happened. The bathroom towel, the blinds, the corner where I kept my stuff, the books I left him..._

Instead of dumping all of that, I gave a weak nod in response and wiped my face with a paper towel. 

“I’m fine,” I said. I tried to stand up but felt dizzy, so I sat back down again. 

“What is going on?” she asked in a gentle tone, rubbing circles into my back. 

“I think it’s a message,” I croaked. 

“What is? And what does it mean?”

“Hold on. I’m only going to explain this once, so just give me a minute,” I said, holding my hand up to her like a stop sign. She waited patiently for me to recover, and walked me back out to the group when I was ready. 

“It’s a message. The drugs, the knife, Corbyn, Spencer’s place, all of it. I think this person has been using Corbyn to watch me and Spencer for a while now, and I think they are threatening us, saying they know everything from what drugs I was on, to what corner of the room I put my books down in,” I said. It was the only thing that made sense. 

“So you think this is a stalker?” Hotch asked me. 

“Yes, and I think Reid thought it was Corbyn. That would be the only logical explanation for why Reid would be talking to him,” I evaluated. 

“So, what do-” JJ started, but our attention had already turned. Spencer was being let out of the jail cell, and placed in handcuffs. We all raced over to see what was happening. 

“What is going on?” Hotch demanded. 

“He is being transferred,” one of the cops stated. 

“Where?” Hotch asked. 

“Rock Mills County Division of Corrections,” the man stated simply. Reid’s face seemed worried, but his eyes conveyed a different sort of emotion: calmness. It’s almost like he was already giving up hope. 

“We _will_ get you out,” I promised him. As a last ditch effort before they took him away, I slid my hand up his shoulder blade and gave him a reassuring squeeze on those ever-twitching back muscles, just like the first time I touched him back in that precinct. He gave me his best attempt at a smile and I just nodded at him.

The cop yanked him out toward the parking lot where he would be ushered away to an actual prison. 

* * *

Garcia visited him first. 

Sure, she made the chart, but Derek, Aaron and Aundreya all agreed it was a good idea to have her visit first because there would be a lower likelihood that Reid would look disheveled or beaten up. They all knew she wouldn’t be able to handle that well, and for him, it would only make him feel worse to upset her. 

Next was Hotch. He could help talk logical next steps. Then Derek because, well, Derek. They’d been super close since the beginning of time it seemed like, and he could try to get Reid to talk to him while helping him stay strong. 

The prison buzzer went off and the line of prisoners were brought into the visiting room. Spencer immediately spotted Derek and relief filled his body. As he approached the booth, Derek stood up and surveyed him. 

He had cuts below his eye, on his brow, and one even on his neck. He had bruises littering pretty much the rest of his face, the place between his temple and cheekbone swelling with a deep purple color. The marks on his throat were self-explanatory. 

Spencer had never been much of the hugging type, but right now, all both men wanted to do was hug. All they _needed_ to do was hug. But of course, now was the only time they couldn’t. 

They both sat down and just looked at each other for a while before Derek started, “Kid-”

“I’m okay,” Spencer cut him off, but his voice was already shaky. 

“We are making progress in our investigations. We all really miss having you around. Who’s supposed to give us all of the stats we need now?” Morgan said, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Reid gave a soft smile at that, which was the best Morgan could hope for. “I guess you will just have to rely on Garcia to get you all that information.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“How is she, anyway?” Reid asked. 

“She’s okay, actually. We are all having a bit of a tough time but we are all still keeping it together,” Derek answered. 

“Good, good. What about everyone else?”

“Yeah, they’re managing. We all just really want you out, that’s all,” Derek attempted.

Reid gave him an incredulous look, “How are they _really_?”

Derek sighed. “JJ is worried, as we all knew she would be, Prentiss is deep breathing, but trying to keep herself all in the logistics of it. Rossi is helping everyone else, including Hotch who is just being Hotch. Level headed, linear thinking, determined Hotch,” Derek listed off. He would have mentioned Aundreya, except for the fact that she wasn’t exactly falling into the ‘somewhat-healthy-coping’ portion of the group, and he wanted to keep Spencer feeling positive without lying to him. But he knew the question was coming. 

“And Chambers?” Reid asked, hesitant.

“She’s okay. Working hard but she’s doing fine,” Derek said, which was true if you were only looking at her from afar. She was composed, calm, and very determined to fix this. But no one was quite sure if she was sleeping or not. She seemed to be slowly withering away into a delirious state. 

Of course, Spencer could read all of the context on Derek’s face and questioned, “Is that code for ‘she’s not doing well at all but is pretending like she is?’”

“Yeah,” Derek admitted. He couldn’t lie to Spencer, even if he wanted to, “How did Hotch put it that one time?” 

“Struggling in silence,” Spencer answered. “Is she sleeping at all?”

The rest of them knew when to stop. They knew that at some point, after 24 hours awake had come and gone, they were so tired that continuing to work wouldn’t even be beneficial anymore.

Aundreya knew no such boundary. She worked until she passed out from exhaustion, and even then, set alarms to keep her awake. Everyone had tried everything in the book, but she wouldn’t have it. They all knew it was because she knew more than she was letting on, but they allowed her to chalk it up to ‘the message was left for me’ and no one argued. They say that love and fear are the two strongest emotions, both of which the entire team was using to fuel them, but she was running on an extra emotion. One that for her, was probably one of the most powerful. She was running on self-blame. Self- _loathing_. And once she went down that path, there was nothing and no one that could pull her back until the problem was solved and she could move past it herself. 

“Not really,” Morgan tried to keep his answers as short and simple as possible. 

“Tell her to take a moment and take care of herself. I’ll be fine for the few hours she sleeps,” Reid said.

“We’ve tried, but honestly, I don’t blame her. None of us are getting much sleep and for good reason. You’re not fine,” Derek said, and Spencer looked down, “And if I had the ability to go that long without sleep, just constantly trying to put things together to help you, I would.”

“I appreciate that,” he said shyly.

“So is there anyone in here you have made connections with? Anyone who can help you?” Derek asked. It was his main concern at the moment.

“Sort of, there’s this one gu-” 

The buzzer went off again, signaling the end of their meeting. “Time’s up!”

“-we’re trying to look out for each other,” Spencer quickly finished. 

“Okay, well just keep your head down. You are your first priority,” Morgan reminded him. He sounded like Aundreya, and it made Reid smile just a bit.

Spencer nodded and was shoved back in line and escorted out of the visitor room.

* * *

When Morgan returned to us from the visit, I could literally _feel_ the worry radiating off of him. He headed straight for Hotch’s office, and I tagged along solely based on the intense eye contact he gave me as he walked by. 

I shut the door behind us. 

“It’s bad, Hotch,” Morgan stated, “It’s really bad.”

“What happened?” Hotch asked. 

“He’s taken a hard one recently. Maybe two,” Derek said. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was about to choke up. “You should have seen him. I’ve never seen him look so … broken.”

“Let me talk to him,” I said. Hotch was resistant to the idea because I was well known among prisons and prisoners. 

“I still don’t know, Chambers,” he said.

“I’m telling you, I can help,” I pleaded. 

“We aren’t going to do anything outside of the law,” Hotch said sternly, lowering his voice. As much as I wanted to convince him that wasn’t where I wanted to go with this, I couldn’t, because he knew me better than that. 

“You’re right. _We_ are not going to do anything of the sort,” I emphasized. 

He gave me a knowing look. 

“Come on, Aaron. Right now, all I want to do is talk to him. He needs someone with inside knowledge helping him out.”

“Hotch, she’s right. He desperately needs that sort of help right now, and this is our best avenue,” Derek spoke up. 

“Fine. Go. Keep us updated. Derek, grab the rest of the team and have them meet us in the briefing room, we have a new case,” Hotch said, nodding at both of us, “But I don’t want either of you sharing this new information about Reid to anyone else. We need them in their best state of mind if we are going to continue to get work done.”

We both nodded and raced out of the room. I quickly grabbed my stuff, barely turning to wave to the rest of the team before scampering into the elevator.

The drive over to the prison was agonizing, by far the longest 25 minutes of my life. Luckily, I had already prepared myself for when I would get to see him, so I had everything ready. 

When I walked into the visitors room, he was waiting for me. 

I almost allowed my focus to be completely consumed by him, but there were multiple other jobs I had to complete. I scanned the room and identified all of the guards. Some I recognized, others I didn’t. Then I examined the prisoners and came up with the same result, but it was good to pin-point possible allies and possible threats. 

I walked over to my side of the table and he stood up to greet me. I leaned over and gave him a hug.

“No physical contact!” one of the guards hollard. Spencer’s figure was stiff but I gave him a squeeze before I freed him, not even bothering to look in the guard’s direction, let alone apologize like I’d seen so many others do. I knew the rules. But I also knew _my_ rules. 

We sat down and the first thing I thought was that Morgan was right. 

He had taken a hard one recently, and based off of his slight grimace at my embrace, the evidence wasn’t only subjected to his face. I think the worst thing about it was seeing his eyes; they were dull, a gray sort of brown. Not anywhere near the usual shiny hazel or chocolate I admired on the daily. 

“So who was it?” I asked after I finished my survey of him. I refused to ask how he was doing. We were both tired of that question, especially since we both already knew the answer.

“What?” It wasn’t the opening he was accustomed to.

“Who or whom was it that marked up that pretty face of yours?” I rephrased. 

“Darrell and his group,” Reid answered. 

“Ah, Darrell. Fairchild, right?”

“Yeah. Ironic last name,” Spencer commented. 

“No kidding. Derek tells me that there aren’t a ton of friends in here?”

“No, not really. There’s one,” he informed. 

“We’re gonna change that, eh?” I posed it as a question but if things went my way, it was soon to be a statement. 

“How?”

“First thing’s first, I need you to drop the innocent act,” I said matter-of-factly. 

“No. I can’t do that,” he defended. It was the reaction I’d expected.

“I know you don’t want to, and I know that it’s one of the only things keeping you sane in here, but if you are going to survive for as long as it takes us to clear your name, I need you to do it.”

He leaned in. “What are you suggesting?”

I met him halfway, his gaze on me intent, “Own it. Your charge right now is murder. That immediately puts you on a higher playing field than a lot of the rest of them. _Own it_ . You don’t ever have to _admit_ to killing anyone, maybe you shouldn’t, but you need to act like you did. Yes, try to stay under the radar, but when you walk, walk confidently. Shoulders back, chin up, as if someone just reminded you that your title is Doctor Genius Spencer Reid.”

He smiled slightly at that and I pointed it out. “Exactly. You get a bit cockier whenever you hear it, so keep that in mind. Other thing, you need-”

“Time’s up!” the same guard from before yelled.

Spencer looked regretful as he went to stand up. I reached over the divider and grabbed his forearm. “Sit down.”

His eyes got wide. “What?”

“No physical contact!”

I didn’t release my grip on him and just stared him down with an arched eyebrow.

His eyes rapidly flicked between me and the guard. At this point, the straggling prisoners were just loitering, preparing for a show. 

“You need to get in line right now!” a different guard yelled as he approached us. 

Spencer turned to go but I held his arm down firmer and snarled, “Sit. _Down._ ”

To my surprise, it was enough to get him to slowly lower himself back into the chair. 

“I swear to god Reid!” the guard ramped up. _It’s never good when the guard already knows your name within the first few weeks._ “Lady, I need you to remove your hand from him.”

I didn’t respond. All I did was cock my head to the side as if I was cracking my neck, exposing my beloved tattoos there. I then lifted my other hand up and set it down on the table, the weight of the bracelets and rings making for a satisfying ‘plop’. 

I smiled up at the guard whose fiery feet were now frozen in their path. “We’d like a few more minutes.”

He gulped. “Uh, ma’am we can’t-”

“You know what my name is so use it. Also, you _can_ , and you _will_. Thanks,” I hissed, flashing another toothy smile and narrowing my eyes. The prisoners in the back looked astonished and I winked at one of the ones I recognized. 

“Sure thing, Aundreya,” the guard said with a nod, carefully retrating. 

I turned back to Spencer, and it looked like somebody’d hit him on the side of the head with a pan. The level of confusion radiating off of him was almost amusing. 

“What just-”

“Not now. We have more important things to discuss.”

“You have _got_ to teach me that.”

“Teach you what?”

“How to act crazy and disturbed while also being in charge.”

I laughed. “Oh, Spencer, you already _are_ crazy and disturbed. We all are. You just have to hone yours in, that’s all. And after the confidence boost you are about to receive from inmates and guards alike, you just have to feed off of it and walk around like you own the damn joint.”

He was looking at me with the most focus I’d seen in a while. “What else?”

“Take these,” I said, handing over half of my bracelets and both of my rings. The guards were eyeballing them like their life depended on it. 

He observed them, then looked up at me. 

“Put them on,” I instructed. He did as I said and I wanted to smile at how fitting they actually looked on him. “Anyone tries to touch you, show them these. They will either back off, or ask you a variety of questions. All you need to tell them is that you know me and you know me well. A handful of the prisoners already saw us talking and a lot more will know by the time we are done.”

“What else?” he repeated. 

“I wanted you to get a tattoo of my ring, but I figured that wouldn’t exactly be the avenue you’d like to take so make sure that the bracelets are always in sight. Never take them off and don’t let anyone touch them. Other thing: they’re gonna draw a lot of attention, so you have to start acting confident and you have to do it now. If you are timid with them on, people will talk and wonder if they are fake or if you are ‘unworthy,’ so be smart about it.”

“What do I tell people if they ask how I know you?”

“You have two options. Tell them the truth…” I started.

“Or?” He was always fast at picking up on how things worked. And here, everything had to be a lie. 

“Or you tell them that I was the one who caught you. That you were causing problems for me and were able to track down a lot of my connections and I didn’t like that, so I decided to hunt you down. It took me a while and a lot of my effort to get you. During that time we got infatuated with each other because we were so evenly matched and actually enjoyed the challenge the other offered, that’s why I still visit you. Tell them I want to break you out and initiate you into my ring. Tell them I have eyes on you at all times and will personally pay anyone who hurts you a visit.”

“What? I don’t think-”

“Do you trust me?” I interrupted. 

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

“Good. Then tell them that and they will leave you alone. I will be visiting you at least once a week, and will make sure to make a show of it every now and then. But if we are going to make this work, you have to utilize all of the information I just gave you. And please, for the love of Lucifer, own your crazy,” I leaned even closer to him and looked right through his eyes, enunciating each word carefully, “That is the only way this works.”

I pushed back out of my chair and he mirrored me. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed them back slightly. With my index finger I tilted his chin up. I hooked a hand behind his neck and brought him to me, whispering in his ear, “You’re going to get through this, _Doctor_.”

I released him and turned to walk toward the visitor exit. I peered over my shoulder at his gaze following me out. I gave him one strong nod before turning back around and leaving him with what I considered to be the best I could manage at the moment. 

* * *

Seven weeks and two days.

That’s how long Spencer had been in prison for.

Five weeks and six days.

That’s how long Aundreya’s bracelets protected him. 

He did exactly as she said. He started to own his crazy. He started acting like he wasn’t as innocent as he claimed and he did his best to act confident while also keeping his head down. And she was right. Anyone that approached him quickly identified the chains he was now sporting and left him alone. They did draw a lot of attention though, and when he gave the false backstory of them hunting each other, becoming infatuated, her eventually winning but wanting to break him out to join her ring, it was like he immediately gained respect. He never thought he’d be so thankful for jewelry and lying. 

But it only worked for so long. 

Some of the guys thought that because Aundreya would be so caught up working cases, and because she’d ‘gone soft’ helping the FBI out, they could get back at her by hurting him. Surely she would no longer have the guts or the freedom to come after them. Plus, if she really enjoyed this new life, this fresh start, she couldn’t be caught ‘paying them a visit’ knowing how that ended, now could she?

Four cell doors didn’t get locked that night. 

Must’ve been a security malfunction or something. At least, that was the explanation given the next morning. 

But knowing Spencer’s luck, he was one of the four cell doors that remained open. The other three? None other than Darrell Fairchild and his two bloodhounds. 

The small blade could have been smuggled in. One of them could have been crafty enough to make it. However it got there didn’t really matter. What mattered, was that it hurt like a bitch. 

_Twice_.

The blade easily penetrated through his flesh, was brought out just far enough so that Spencer could see his own blood dripping from the blade onto his shoes, then plunged right back in. The second time came with a twist and a forceful yank upwards. 

The rough concrete floor stung his knee caps and sent a wave of pins and needles up his legs. He put his hands over his stomach and had a wave of deja vu wash over him.

He’d done this before. Unfortunately, this time there wasn’t someone ready and willing to help him. 

He looked toward his still open cell door, realizing that any evidence of Darrell and his possy being there was already gone.

Reid croaked out for anyone to help him, but no one came. He yelled a little bit louder, hearing a faint echo off of the concrete down the hall, but still, no one was around. Half crawling, half dragging himself toward the hallway, he continued calling out for help. His eyes drooped shut, collapsing only halfway out of his cell before he was able to identify the footsteps coming his way. His last thought was one of pleading, hoping that it was someone, _anyone_ , who would help him. He wasn’t ready to die.


End file.
